


Let us begin, dear love, where we left off

by umakoo



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Norse Religion & Lore, F/M, Female Loki (Marvel), M/M, Shapeshifting, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, no actual blood relation, uncle loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 03:56:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14488281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: “Is that a whetstone lodged into your thick skull I see?”Norse mythology AU in which Loki helps Thor with his battle injuries.





	Let us begin, dear love, where we left off

**Author's Note:**

> I spent an entire weekend playing the new God of War game and was inspired to write a Norse mythology based Thorki AU :) Loki is several centuries older than Thor in this and they refer to each other as 'Uncle' and 'Nephew', but there's no actual blood relation between them. Loki will also shift to a female form for the second half of the sex scene.
> 
> Lots of love, as always, to Selene and Bucky for the beta!

_Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;_  
_Tie up the broken threads of that old dream;_  
_And go on happy as before; and seem_  
_Lovers again, though all the world may scoff._

-Reunited by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

 

Loki sat on the porch of his cabin and hummed a merry tune as he wove a new fishing net to replace the one he’d lost to some water sprites last week. The pesky things came out each night, frolicking in the pond behind Loki’s cabin and messing with his nets if he forgot to place a protection rune on them.

 

His fingers lost their grip on the thread when the sky above the wood split open with a sudden, sharp crackle of electricity. It was followed by a thunderous boom and _drip, drip, drip_ came the sound of raindrops against the awning, the sunlight in the garden swallowed by deep shadows.

 

Loki looked up from his net. It appeared his fool of a nephew was back on Midgard. Well, technically there was no shared blood between them, but Odin’s son had called him Uncle since Loki first came to Asgard as Odin’s newly sworn blood brother. The boy had been easy to charm with stories and illusions, and he’d followed Loki around like an infatuated pup, but that was centuries ago.

 

He hadn’t seen Thor since their trip to Thrym’s court, which in Loki’s opinion was a wholly amusing adventure. Thor had retrieved his beloved hammer and he’d even slain the thieving jötun king along with most of his kin, but apparently the humiliation of being mistaken for a blushing bride was too much for the thunderer to stomach and he’d spent the past few seasons in Asgard, sulking in his hall.

 

Thor had looked quite fetching in his wedding garb and Loki had said as much, but his admiration was met with angry snarls and accusations of everything somehow being Loki’s fault as usual. In truth, the brute simply had no sense of humor.

 

The birch trees around his garden began to sway in the growing winds, and the sparse drops of rain grew into a proper downpour as the weather began to mirror his nephew’s mood. It appeared Thor was quite angry about something, but Loki was certain he hadn’t done anything to provoke his ire, not this time.

 

He paused his weaving and glared at the clap of thunder in the western sky. The oaf was threatening to flood Loki’s freshly planted cabbage patch with his rain! He went inside and slammed the door shut, his own mood turning foul as he realized that he, along with everyone else in the valley was once again caught in one of Thor’s stupid tantrums.

 

“How many times have I told that hot-headed fool to control his temper…”

 

Loki snapped his fingers to light a fire in the hearth and took a seat in his willow chair. He quite enjoyed Thor’s passionate moods when they were less violent and taking place in Loki’s bedchamber, but these childish fights he got into with trolls and reavers and whatever jötun was foolish enough to insult Thor’s pride were quite frankly a nuisance.

 

Loki jumped at a sudden loud rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the valley. The walls of his cabin trembled and the beams on the ceiling rained down a cloud of dust on his finely braided hair. He coughed and scrambled up to peer through the small windows.

 

The trees shook with the force of Thor’s storm and his garden was completely drenched, but it was hard to see anything beyond the secluded cove.

 

Fortunately there were other ways to get information if one only knew where to look.

 

Loki withdrew from the window and reached underneath his bed to pull out his scrying bowl. He filled it with water from a barrel in his pantry and threw in a pinch of salt before carrying it to his alchemy nook. He lit fresh beeswax candles and set the bowl in the circle of light, taking a seat in front of it as Thor’s storm continued to wreak havoc in his garden.

 

Loki rolled his shoulders and filled his lungs with air. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The light from the candles danced in the reflection like a living thing as the surface began to shift.

 

It was like looking into a dirty mirror and nowhere near as good a method as shapeshifting or hiding in the space between realms to listen in on private conversations, but there was no way in Hel Loki was setting foot anywhere near whatever mess Thor had gotten himself into.

 

The window in the bowl shifted to show various locations in the valley. The sky was alight with Thor’s thunder in every corner, but nothing caught Loki’s attention, not until the window finally opened to the old dwarven ruins in the west.

 

Loki rolled his eyes and pressed his fingers against his temple.

 

Because there was Thor the fool, Thor the mighty oaf, testing his strength against the dumbest, most vicious - and not to mention largest - giant on Midgard. He’d heard of Hrungnir’s recent visit to Asgard and how he’d been driven out of Odin’s mighty mead hall after insulting his hosts and threatening them with several murders and kidnapping.

 

Thor had rained down his vengeance for lesser things, so it didn’t really surprise Loki to see the two of them battling it out. Hrungnir was massive, taller than the mountains around him, but that didn’t seem to trouble Thor who harnessed his storm to rain blows from his hammer all over the giant’s hulking form.

 

Thor was quick to temper, but seeing him in the heat of battle never failed to excite Loki, provided that he was not on the receiving end of the thunderer's wrath. Not that he’d ever admit such things to anyone, least of all Thor himself, but the bulging muscles and the storm in his eyes, it truly was a magnificent sight.

 

Hrungnir swung his mile-long arm and Loki realized there was a whetstone as large as three full-grown oxen in his grip. He was shrouded in the electric veil of Thor’s thunder and it was hard to tell who was winning through the blurry water, but Loki hoped the battle would cease before his roof started to leak.

 

Thor pummeled the giant with his hammer and fists in equal measure, the battlefield around them crumbling under Hrungnir’s stomping feet. Loki pressed his hands to his ears when the giant opened his mighty jaws, his bellow so loud that the glass in Loki’s windows threatened to shatter when it traveled across the valley.

 

His eyes went wide when he saw Hrungnir gather speed and fling the whetstone from his massive paw.

 

“Oh dear…”

 

The stone hit Thor square in the face and sent him flying across the battlefield until he collided with one of the few stone pillars that still remained of Dúrnir’s stronghold. Parts of the whetstone splintered from the impact and Loki watched it explode into a dark cloud of flint.

 

It took Thor a moment to recover, but Loki heard the storm outside grow stronger still and he knew the giant’s days were numbered when Thor got onto his feet, the winds spinning around the broken whetstone until it was enveloped inside a small cyclone, rising ever higher.

 

Loki was quite certain he’d never seen his nephew this enraged. Well, perhaps when he cut off Sif’s hair. And he was rather mad that time Loki tampered with the handle of his hammer a bit, but certainly not after that.

 

Thor’s mighty bellow rivalled that of Hrungnir’s as he used Mjölnir to direct his storm, flinging the whetstone directly into the giant’s massive forehead. Hrungnir was too big and too slow to avoid the well-aimed blow, and the air in the valley crackled as the stone buried itself into the giant’s skull.

 

Hrungnir swung left and right, back and forth, the light of battle in his eyes dimming.

 

Loki gripped the edge of the table as he realized that Thor was in imminent danger of being crushed. “Get out of there, you fool!”

 

Thor used the winds to try and remove himself from harm’s way, but he was struck by the tip of Hrungnir’s forefinger and Loki watched as his nephew went hurtling down just as the giant collapsed on top of the mountain range, trapping Thor under his thick ankle.

 

“Well, that was unfortunate.”

 

Loki slumped against the back of his chair and doused the candles, closing the window in the bowl. The storm outside began to die down, the rumble of Thor’s thunder growing more distant and subdued. Believing the show to be over, Loki was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the roof of his cabin was suddenly hit by what sounded like a hailstorm from Hel.

 

It appeared the cloud of debris from the giant's broken whetstone had traveled through the air, raining down flint all over the valley, and Loki spat a string of curses when he saw his lovely little garden was saturated in quartz.

 

“Ugh. That’s going to take forever to clean.”

 

Damn his nephew and his skull that appeared to be even thicker than Loki had expected.

 

He had no doubt that Thor himself or one of the Aesir would eventually free the thunderer from his current predicament, though it might take a while, for Hrungnir truly was the largest jötun to ever plague the realms with his presence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took three whole weeks for Thor to get free, three weeks that Loki enjoyed immensely. It was most amusing to watch every god in Asgard, including the Allfather himself to try and fail to lift the giant’s dead corpse only to have Thor’s own toddler crawl to his father’s trapped body and lift Hrungnir’s massive leg to allow Thor to be rescued.

 

Either the Aesir were not as mighty as they boasted or Thor’s boy was going to be an even bigger nuisance than his father once he grew older.

 

Loki had managed to mend his cabbage patch and his garden was finally clear of the flint that had rained down all over Midgard. He sat on his porch, weaving his nets and enjoying the sunny afternoon when the treetops parted with a sudden blast of wind.

 

Thor landed in front of his cabin with a loud thud, the ground under his boots singing from small sparks of electricity.

 

“Uncle.”

 

“Nephew.”

 

They watched each other across the yard, the air quite literally crackling with tension as Thor took a step closer.

 

“It’s been a while,” Loki smiled, his voice honeyed. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

Thor grit his teeth, ignoring Loki’s question. He glanced around the garden and the cozy cabin Loki had been living in for a few seasons now.

 

“I had a feeling you were hiding somewhere on Midgard. Why haven’t you visited my hall of late?”

 

Loki arched his brow at Thor’s question. Had the blow from the giant’s whetstone addled his nephew’s memories?

 

“I seem to recall that when we last saw each other you called me a wily snake right before you told me to never again set foot in the vicinity of your home. So you’ll have to excuse me for thinking I was not welcome in Thrundheim.”

 

Thor dropped his gaze to his feet, seemingly capable of remorse. Loki’s scarred lips curved up as he savored the sight, for it wasn’t every day you got to see the thunderer so subdued.

 

“Sometimes you are wily, aye, but you are always welcome in my hall, Loki.” Thor stepped forward and reached out with one calloused hand. “I may anger from time to time, but never doubt that you are dear to me, Uncle.”

 

Loki narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Such humility from a son of Odin could only mean one thing. “You want something from me,” Loki stated flatly, taking in Thor’s rough appearance. He fixed his gaze on the piece of stone sticking out of his nephew’s forehead. “Is that a whetstone lodged into your thick skull I see?”

 

“Aye…” Thor pressed his fingers against the stone, his expression pained. “My head aches terribly, but I cannot get it out. I’ve pulled and pulled, but it refuses to budge.” He shot Loki a hopeful look, eyes pleading. “I was hoping that you, clever Loki, might know a way?”

 

Loki scoffed at the flattery. His nephew was many things, but subtle was not one of them. He heaved a sigh and beckoned Thor to follow him inside. “Come on then, let’s have a look at you.”

 

Thor’s broad shoulders barely fit through the doorway as he stepped into Loki’s cabin, his footsteps heavy on the worn planks. He removed his cape and set his precious hammer on the table, oblivious to the irritated look Loki shot his way as the unlit candelabrum went toppling down.

 

Thor walked around the small cabin, picking Loki’s things in his hands and inspecting the place as if he were in his own chambers. “This is, uh, rustic.” He slumped down into Loki’s favorite chair, the finely woven willow wailing under his bulk.

 

“Yes, make yourself right at home, why don’t you…” Loki grumbled as he rummaged through his herb cabinet. He pulled out a jar of herbs and crossed the room to fetch a mortar and some honey he’d traded from a huldra who lived in the woods.

 

Thor spread his massive thighs and settled more comfortably into Loki’s chair, his eyes roaming around the undeniably humble lodgings. “What in Nornir’s name are you doing on Midgard, Loki? As I recall, you have a perfectly fine hall in Jötunheimr. Why are you slumming on this hub world, living in a hovel like some witch of the wild?”

 

Loki arched his brows and shot his nephew an exasperated look over his shoulder. “Do you really think it wise for either of us to show our faces in Jötunheimr after you killed their king and half of his kin?” He emptied the crushed herbs into a clay bowl with more force than was necessary, Thor’s company already testing his nerves. “If I’m living like a hermit, it’s because most of us don’t have a magic hammer capable of felling a horde of vengeful giants.”

 

“Oh.” Thor had the good sense to sound a little remorseful. “Well, as I told you before, you’re always welcome in my home.”

 

“Am I now?” Loki turned to look at Thor as his hand continued to stir the mixture of herbs and honey, his smile knowing. “I assume that invitation also extends to your bedchamber, darling, generous, nephew of mine?”

 

It was always a special thrill to see Thor blush, for few were the people who could make the thunderer so flustered. Loki of course had been turning Thor pink in the cheeks since his nephew was old enough to wander into Loki’s chambers in a fit of drunken lust.

 

“I suppose it does…” Thor grunted, his gaze fixed on his own knuckles as Loki came to stand between his parted thighs.

 

“And what would your dear old wife have to say to that, I wonder?” Loki smirked, dipping the tattooed tips of his fingers into the paste of herbs and honey.

 

The flush on Thor’s cheeks grew deeper and his tone took a defensive edge. “Sif cares not who I bed, for she has lovers of her own.” He narrowed his eyes at Loki. “But I’m sure you already knew that, for I’m well aware of your snooping ways.”

 

“I did know, yes,” Loki nodded with a smile as he began to spread the paste around the whetstone where it stuck out of Thor’s forehead. “I must say Lady Sif seems quite satisfied with that handsome archer she invites into her bed, though his name escapes me.”

 

“Loki…” There was a very clear warning in the way Thor spoke his name, and Loki decided to curb his teasing tongue before the mood between them became truly sour.

 

He put the bowl away and gave the whetstone a yank, hard enough for Thor to jerk forward in the chair.

 

“Ow! I told you, it won’t budge.”

 

“Aye,” Loki agreed. He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. “That is why I’m going to have to sing it out.”

 

“What do you mean you’ll ‘sing it out?’” Thor gaped at him, his nostrils flaring. “Do not jest, Uncle, for I have no patience for tricks-“

 

“It is no trick, you oaf. I’m talking about magic,” Loki snapped, his own temper flaring.

 

Thor narrowed his eyes at Loki, suddenly suspicious. “You mean seiðr?”

 

“Aye, I believe there is a powerful seiðr spell I can use to remove that stone out of your thick skull.”

 

“No. Absolutely not.” Thor shook his head, and Loki had to grip his thighs to keep him seated. “Uncle, you know such spells are dangerous. They can rot your core and turn you into something unnatural, an abomination.”

 

“Perhaps, in the hands of someone inexperienced or someone whose heart has been corrupted, but I am neither inexperienced nor corrupted, dear Nephew,” Loki smiled, his voice airy.

 

Thor did not look convinced, but he kept his mouth shut as Loki began to prepare. He lit a few candles and removed his tunic and shoes, urging Thor to do the same. It wasn’t really necessary, but he did enjoy the sight of Thor’s muscles on full display.

 

He was no völva, even if he was currently living like one, hidden away in the woods like some common hag. But he had come to know many powerful spells over the centuries he’d spent in Odin’s court and traveling the realms with his son.

 

Loki climbed into Thor’s lap and gave a sly smile when his nephew gaped at him in surprise.

 

“I’ll have a better reach this way,” Loki grinned, and even Thor had to know he was lying. It appeared he had no objections, for he settled his calloused hands on Loki’s thighs, the heat of his palms seeping through Loki’s thinly woven breeches. “Shall we begin, Nephew?”

 

“Aye, sing your damned song.”

 

The air between them was heavy with anticipation as Loki settled his finger on Thor’s brow and began to hum in a low voice. The seiðr was ancient, passed down from a generation of völur in Vanaheim until it was discovered in a scroll on Midgard and won by Loki in a game of riddles against one of Ivaldi’s drunken sons.

 

He felt the stone in Thor’s forehead twitch and he continued to chant, able to sense Thor’s growing relief every time the painful piece of flint was inched further out of his skull.

 

“Oh, Loki, it’s coming loose, I can feel it,” Thor sighed, his hips rising under Loki’s buttocks as he squirmed in the chair. “Use that clever tongue of yours to pull the damn thing out.”

 

“Hush, don’t speak.” Loki arched his back as he rubbed his inked fingers around the rim of flesh, the spell spilling from his lips as if some invisible thing had taken hold of him.

 

“You’re doing so well, I can feel the pain easing,” Thor groaned, his relief growing more audible.

 

“I said hush, you’re distracting me,” Loki snapped, and it took him a moment to remember which verse he’d been singing.

 

Soon it wasn’t just Thor’s words that were distracting him and he let out a quiet gasp when he felt the hands on his hips tighten their grip as Thor thrust up, grinding against him.

 

Loki blinked his eyes open and shot Thor an incredulous look. “You brute! Are you growing hard?”

 

“Can you blame me? For how can I help myself when you decide to seat yourself right above my cock, sweet Loki? You know my blood runs hot when I’m in your company.”

 

“You _are_ aware that there’s still a whetstone stuck in your head?”

 

“I care not, the pain has already eased. Please, Loki, it’s been so long since I last had the pleasure of your company like this.”

 

Seiðr could have a strange effect on those who used it, for spells like these tapped into one’s lifeblood and Thor’s had always run hot.

 

Loki struggled to finish his spell as Thor’s hands began to roam up and down his naked flanks, but the stone finally slipped out just as the spell reached its final verse.

 

Thor let out a loud, audibly satisfied groan, grinding his hips against Loki’s cleft like some lust-addled beast.

 

“Stay still, you oaf,” Loki hissed, doing his best to slather more herbs and honey on the wound on Thor’s forehead, but it was already healing, stitching closed before Loki’s eyes. He frowned when he thought he saw a piece of flint still stuck in the bone, but such a small thing probably wouldn’t make any difference in Thor’s life of feasting and giant-slaying.

 

“There, I think it’s done.” Loki could hardly get the words out before Thor had captured his mouth in a ravenous kiss, and yes, perhaps it had been a bit too long since they last bedded each other, for Loki’s own blood ran hot at the feel of Thor’s hungry kisses against his scarred lips.

 

He reached down to undo their laces, but Thor, impatient as always, made his task a challenge, thrusting his rigid flesh into Loki’s hands like an over-eager youth. “Always so greedy for my touch, aren’t you, Nephew?” Loki hummed, giving Thor’s cock a squeeze through the thick leather of his trousers.

 

Thor’s smile turned sly and he lowered his hands to Loki’s hips. “Don’t pretend I’m the only one, Uncle.” He yanked on the waist of Loki’s breeches and pulled them down to his thighs, just enough to expose his pale rear to the candle-lit room. “I know you lust for my cock like a loose tavern wench.” He emphasized his claim by sinking his fingers into the cleft of Loki’s ass, the look on his face infuriatingly arrogant.

 

Loki was certain he had the perfect argument for such outrageous words, but it died on his lips when Thor began to tease his entrance, and the best he could do was yank on the laces of Thor’s breeches until they unraveled, allowing Loki to reach inside.

 

He let out a smug peal of laughter when Thor groaned and jerked into his hand. He’d managed to level the playing field, but his breath still caught in his throat as he stroked his hand down the length of Thor's cock; the girth always took him by surprise no matter how many times Loki had let the thunderer bed him.

 

The cloud of lust lifted momentarily when Thor pressed his fingers against Loki’s entrance, one blunt digit attempting to push inside. “Thor, wait.” Loki shook his head and reached behind his back to stay Thor’s hand. “I’m afraid I have no suitable oil for proper penetration in this hovel of mine.”

 

Thor withdrew his fingers, visibly disappointed, but his smile returned a moment later. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and gave Loki’s buttock a playful slap. “I don’t suppose you could turn yourself into a buxom milkmaid?”

 

Loki gave Thor’s tattooed chest a smack, the scars around his lips pulling tight. “You lummox! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to change my skin into something completely different?”

 

“No?” Thor grinned, his eyes innocent. "But I bet you'd be so wet for me..."

 

“You truly expect me to just change my shape so you can have a nice, warm hole to fuck?”

 

Thor let out a low grunt as he gave himself a long, slow stroke, evidence of his lust beading in the slit. He arched his blond brows at Loki. “Well, can you do it or not?”

 

“Yes I can do it!” Loki sputtered. “But that’s not the point-“

 

Thor stopped his ranting words with a kiss and lowered his gaze to Loki’s flat chest. “Sweet, clever, beautiful, Loki… I bet you’d have the softest, roundest breasts. Can you not do it? Just this once, for me.”

 

Loki’s mouth fell open and he found himself quite speechless as Thor began to paw at his chest. He didn’t actually have anything against a female form and he supposed that the sooner they could fuck, the sooner he could kick the brute out of his house.

 

“ _Fine_.”

 

“Really?” Thor smiled at Loki like the spoiled brat that he was.

 

“Yes, yes.” Loki brushed Thor’s hands away from his chest and drew in a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. “Just… stay still for a moment and keep your hands to yourself so I can concentrate.”

 

Shapeshifting did take some effort, but Loki had always had a natural aptitude for assuming the skin and shape of other lifeforms. It was not as difficult as he made it sound, but Thor did not need to know that, for what if he no longer preferred Loki’s true form, always insisting he shift into something else?

 

He felt his skin ripple with magic as the change took over his body. It was nothing too drastic, for Loki had been called ergi even in his male form, but the sharp angles of his body took a more voluptuous, softer shape, and between his legs was now a warm hole for Thor to fuck.

 

Loki knew Thor was staring at him even before he opened his eyes. His nephew had seen him shift his shape before, but Loki had never done it for such intimate reasons.

 

Thor’s mouth fell open and he reached up to fondle Loki’s breasts, round and soft, just as Thor had wanted. “Oh, Loki…” Thor flashed him pleased grin and buried his face between Loki’s full breasts, the bristles of his thick beard somehow rougher in this form.

 

Loki sank his fingers into Thor’s windswept hair and gave a light yank until Thor drew back, just enough to kiss and suckle on a peaked nipple.

 

“You’re stunning,” Thor murmured. “Thank you for doing this.”

 

“Ah, so you do know the word,” Loki huffed, feigning surprise at the show of gratitude.

 

Thor looked up and clasped one hand around Loki’s neck while the other came to play with the small braid at his temple. “You do have my deepest gratitude for everything you’ve done for me today.”

 

Loki rolled his eyes. His nephew had an annoying tendency to get all sentimental in his sincerity. “Yes, well, this body is temporary so I’d advise you to enjoy it while I allow it.”

 

Thor’s hooded gaze grew dark and his smile was positively feral as he pulled Loki against his chest and reached behind his back, one large hand settling between his thighs. Loki tried and failed to swallow the gasp that came spilling from his lips when he felt the calloused skin of Thor’s palm against his cunt.

 

Thor gave him a few teasing slaps and used two of his thick fingers to part Loki’s folds. “I was right, you are wet for me,” Thor observed, his voice pleased as he sank a finger inside. “I like it when you cannot hide your desire for me.”

 

“And I like it when you don’t talk,” Loki panted. Another lie, but Thor didn’t have to know that either.

 

Loki was no virgin in this form and Thor, though many centuries younger, was no spring chicken when it came to the act of fucking, for Loki had personally seen to his education over the years. He slid into Loki’s body with practiced ease, but his girth still robbed Loki of his breath as he struggled to adjust to the fullness within his borrowed body. He did finally find his composure, but all he could get out were airy gasps as Thor began to fuck him, bouncing Loki in his lap.

 

Loki did his best to hold on to Thor's broad shoulders, the fire in his belly burning hotter with each powerful thrust. The last time he'd assumed this form, he'd wasted it on a farmhand who, if Loki recalled, turned out to be a truly disappointing lay. Certainly nothing like Thor who grabbed one of Loki's full breasts in his hand, circling his thumb around a peaked nipple.

 

Loki felt a novel tingle of pleasure at the touch, down where his body was joined with Thor’s. He brushed his fingers over his nephew's ruddy cheek and freshly mended brow, and pulled on Thor’s long mane until he felt rough lips on his breast.

 

Loki had spent enough time spying to know that Sif hadn't allowed Thor in her chambers after her husband had sired two sons with the fierce Jarnsaxa, and though he had no doubt that his nephew could find pleasurable company, Loki could sense a certain pent up urgency in the thunderer's fucking.

 

He knew Thor was close from the way his hips began to stutter, and he reached down to pleasure himself, for there was no denying that Thor was a satisfying fuck, but Loki knew from loose tongues at Aesir feasts that he could be a selfish lover when his bedmates were women.

 

Thor paid no mind to Loki’s fingers between them, too busy fucking into his tight cunt, his mouth still latched onto Loki’s breast. It was hardly a surprise, for the guidance Loki had given in the art of pleasure had thus far been limited to one form. Even Loki had forgotten how much more complex but satisfying this borrowed body could be as he brought himself to completion, his breast slipping from Thor’s lips as his back arched into a round bow.

 

“Loki… I’m close too,” Thor groaned as Loki clenched around him. He glanced up with lust-darkened eyes, but his expression grew a little uncertain. “Do you think I could swell your belly with a child in this form?” he asked after a beat, his voice rough with something Loki didn’t recognize from their past couplings.

 

Loki had barely caught his breath, but the question alarmed him and he stilled in Thor’s arms.

 

He’d had a few children over the centuries, but birthing a child for Thor would complicate things further than Loki was comfortable with. He had no desire to be bound to Asgard and Odin’s firstborn through blood, not after his oath of brotherhood with Odin had soured centuries ago.

 

Loki cleared his throat and gave Thor’s shoulder a light pat. “I think you’d better pull out.”

 

Thor didn’t even attempt to hide the ridiculously disappointed look that twisted the corners of his mouth so far down that Loki couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

 

“Oh, don’t give me that look. You already have three children, Thor.”

 

“One more couldn’t hurt…”

 

“It most certainly could if it’s made with me.” Loki climbed out of Thor’s lap and settled between his spread thighs, leaning close so Thor could finish on his breasts.

 

Thor gave himself a half-hearted stroke, his lust seemingly forgotten due to their conversation. A conversation Loki had no desire to have. He pressed his palms against his breasts and pushed them up towards Thor’s hard prick. “Come now, you’re almost there.”

 

“Our child would be special, Loki.”

 

Loki snarled at the miserable, beaten dog look Thor had conjured on his face. “You fool! Our child would be a monster. Or have you not heard the kenning I have across the realms? Mother of Monsters they call me.”

 

“Slepinir is no monster! He is Odin’s finest steed,” Thor argued. He reached out to cup Loki’s cheek with his sweaty palm, the gesture so disgustingly sweet that Loki had to slap his hand away.

 

Loki bit his lip and turned his gaze toward the flames in the hearth. Of course the fool had no knowledge of the things foretold in the prophecies Loki’s people had made with their gift of foresight. Why would he, for Thor’s desires in life were simple. He knew nothing of the monstrous creatures Loki would one day bring into these realms or how one of them would bring forth his own doom on the day of Ragnarök.

 

And it was better that way, for too much knowledge in the hands that wielded the deadliest weapon in the realms could have disastrous results.

 

Loki brushed his knuckles against Thor’s bristled cheek and turned his words honey sweet. “Darling Thor, don’t you want to spill on me? On these lovely, round breasts that I conjured just for you.” He squeezed his breasts together and gave them a light shake, smiling at the way Thor’s cock twitched at the sight, his blood growing hot once more.

 

“Aye,” Thor huffed, the corner of his mouth lifting. He tightened his grip on his shaft, the sounds around them slick and lewd as he pumped himself, always so susceptible to Loki's silver tongue.

 

Loki was quite relieved to find him so easily distracted and he spun a whole litany of sweet praises when Thor finally spilled on his chest, his seed thick and copious as it rolled down the milky bosom of his borrowed form.

 

Loki arched his brow and gave Thor a scolding look even as his voice remained fond. “First you drenched my cabbage patch, then you rain flint into my garden and now you’ve soiled my body with your seed. What will you offer as recompense for these many slights, I wonder…”

 

He closed his eyes and shifted back into his own skin, the familiar angles and hard lines of muscle a welcome change.

 

Thor picked up his tunic from the floor and pressed it against Loki’s chest, flat and narrow but still quite stained. His face was lax and his eyes held a rare spark of mischief as he wrapped his hand around Loki’s forearm to pull him back into his lap.

 

“If you travel back to Asgard with me, I promise you’ll be very well compensated. Every. Single. Night.” He emphasized his words with hungry kisses, the lust in his blood clearly unsated.

 

Loki pretended to consider Thor’s words, taking in their rustic surroundings, but in truth, he’d been bored with this simple life for a while now. Things were always so much more entertaining in Odin’s court where the mead was sweet and most feasts ended in a contest of insults that Loki always won.

 

He spun a golden lock of hair around his finger and gave it a tug until his lips were pressed against Thor’s. “Well, I suppose I have missed our travels, Nephew.”

 

Fin


End file.
